Sanglante: Alojzy

Sanglante: Alojzy

Brother Thomas heard the Hussars approaching. He stood up from his notes and called for a few knights to greet his allies. “Prince Alojzy, it is a pleasure to see you. Here to do the lords work with us I suppose?”

Alojzy dismounted his horse and embraced Thomas. “Yes good knight, we will defeat these pagans and drive them from Christendom.” The hussars cheered.

Thomas brought a map out and began to show the prince. “You see, these are the locations of there temples. Destroying them is the first step in cleansing these devil worshipers from the land.”

As the prince looked it over he noticed the marks around one temple in particular, “Thomas, what is so special about this place?”

The knight smiled. “It is a sacred grove, in it is rumored to be one of the oldest pagan temples in existence. Not only that, it houses something of a library where the documents and texts of their superstitions are kept. Breaking it will render most of the other shrines inconsequential.”

Alojzy looked over the terrain between the temple and their forces. Alojzy motioned for a servant to bring the men some wine. They drank and steeled there nerves. There was an ocean of blood Christ demanded from his apostles on Earth, an deluge to cleanse it of non-believers. Thomas's grandfather had fought for Jerusalem! And now he was here out in the sticks fighting over forests, for what....

Ecumenical politics, the crusades in the East were meant to distract them all from the catastrophic defeats they were suffering in the Holy Land. Soon it would be decades before a christian pilgrim could see the shrines of Christ. And yet the pope and the emperor had Thomas and his knights fighting in Lithuania. What even was Lithuania, a vast dark jungle full of devils between the Kingdom of the Poles and that of the Rus.

Thomas Stared at the maps, the wine was slowly overtaking him. He looked at Alojzy, “We are no longer fighting just for God, nor to assist the noble Polish king against these goddess pagans. Do you know what we really want prince?”

Alojzy smiled, “Brother you have had too much wine, tomorrow my hussars and your knights will bring a torrent of souls to Christ. They will convert before our crosses or upon our lances.” At these words he patted Thomas, smiling and walking away toward the Hussar encampment.

Thomas stood there and watched his ally walk away. His knights weren't fighting for these poles, nor Christ. He knew he wanted to carve out a Teutonic kingdom in the east, a brotherhood of cross and sword, a permanent scar in the land. The pagans once called the area Prussia. Yes, Thomas thought, Prussia will be a good name for there kingdom.

Idyll to Fallen Idols,

Idyll to Fallen Idols,

Where a warmth of fire once stoked my passions,

Now I only recognize the sorrowfulness of cold,

And those words that dropped from my lips,

They use to mean so much more than now,

But as a child's idols die they know their heart is weak, 

It's hard to count the beat as it slows and dies,

And we slowly are dying from something so silly,

To so bizarre a death as to be worthy of the Dark Ages,

I feel my soul tortured and torn asunder,

And there is just a pain of loss a frustration,

For with iconoclasm comes a void,

With anarchy and revolution comes a gentle desperation,

Yes today I feel it hang in the wind as my mind withers,

Sanglante: Thomas 1

Sanglante: Thomas 1

“Brother Thomas” the priest called. And a large knight walked towards him. This giant man was covered from head to toe in heavy Teutonic armor. As Thomas approached he stared at the the villagers the priest had been interrogating.

The first had been stretched and broken on the wheel. Her eyes still open and mouth frozen as she called out for her pagan gods. Next to her was a child, his feet had been burned as the priest sought to get a confession, as the child writhed the collar around his neck was tightened, inch by inch until he was asphyxiated. Finally there was the man who was ready to talk, after all watching his wife and child die so brutally can cause even the strongest man to break.

Brother Thomas took off his helmet and looked at the man, speaking softly, “I am brother Thomas, soldier of Christ, Komtur of the Ordo domus Sanctæ Mariæ Theutonicorum Hierosolymitanorum, we have come to bring the cross to your lands,a nd defeat the old pagan devils you worship.”

At first the man remained silent. And then he rose his head. The priest ahd detahced the man's retina durring the questioning, so he could only see out of one eye, and as bllod ran from his mouth and nose he began to speak, “Yes knight, your brothers have been bringing the cross to our land. We see now that yours is a religion of fire and blood. And it is only blood that we can offer to satiate it. The temple you are looking for is to the east. I would guide you, but my gods shall soon grant me the mercy of death, a mercy you will soon receive for there, in our holiest shrine the gods themselves will confront you. Yes knight of blood and fire, you will find both their! This conquest, this crusade will only end in your death, and the destruction of your order.”

Thomas smiled, with a gentle stroke of his sword he took the mans head clean off. Then he looked at the priest. “Burn them” he said, “and then gather the brothers, we have marchign orders.”

Some brothers assisted the priest, to prepare the stakes to burn these townsfolk at, however they were careful to remove the heads of all of them. After all, it will be a greater punishment that when these pagans make it to hell, their heads will be severed from there bodies.

Thomas called for a few more of the brothers. “After the villagers are burned, put the whole city to the torch.” The brothers nodded and headed off.

At that moment an emissary rode up, “Komtur!” he called out, “Komtur Thomas!” Thomas walked towards the emissary. Out of breath the man tried to speak, “The pagans!” he gasped, “The Pagans have mounted a counter attack!” Thomas looked at him unimpressed. The emissary continued, “Brother Conrad is dead, his knights were captured and mutilated.” At these word a fire lit in Thomas's eyes. He spoke with a cold caculated tone, “And where is this force of savages?” The emissary explained the details,a nd then stunningly interjected.... “They have the Generalprokurator from the vatican, and they were tortureing him!” Thomas stared enraged at the emissary, and called to his brothers.

“Brothers!” he yelled, “Brothers, the pagans have attacked the church!” As the men assembled he bagan to adress them in a familiar if patriarchial tone. “Komtur Conrad and his men were slain and horrifically tortured. And worse yet, the men took the Generalprokurator, the deputy of the pope. These men insult God himself, and this insult cannot go unpunnished. We shall with all haste finish putting this town to the flame, and then march, march as if the heavens were beckoning us to this pagan camp. There, by the will of the almighty shall we take every last pagan soul to hell!”

At this sound the men cheered wildy. Thomas then mounted his horse, and with torch in hand lead the brothers in the burning of this little Lithuanian village. As they assembled outside of the town, the red blaze of the village reflected the fire in Brother Thomas's heart. He would see every pagan brought to the lord, or sent down to Satan, For he would stomach nothing but the true religion to exist on this earth, not while he could still march.

As his knights marched he kept calling, “Pick up the pace! Christians are dying!” They covered an incredible amount of territory as they aproached the pagan camp. Near the camp several other Komturs and their Knights had assembled. The priests were reading Psalms and the men prepareing for war. As the Komturs assembled to discuss the plan Thomas stared toward the Pagans.

Mixed in witht he crys of suffering men, you could hear the pagans danceing and reveling. It was a stunning victory. In the center of the camp nailed ot a cross was the Generalprokurator. They had disembowled him while he was still alive and tied his entrails around his kneck. The agony he had suffered lit a fire so intense in Thomas's heart.

Fianlly the Komtur's agreed on a battle plan, and Thomas, had demanded the honor of leading the first charge where by some of the other brothers would attack with their Knights from different directions eventually encriceling the pagans. The men cheered as their leader once more wipped them into a frenzy of bloodlust. Finallay to the sound of martial music, he unleashed his men towards the camp, riding the fastest and at the head he yelled, “Men, for every pagan you kill I will send a gold coin back to your family in Germany, and for every head you take, an indulgence for one of your family memebers still in Purgatory!”

Brother Thomas's horse bounded over the picket line and begun engageing the Pagans immediately. They had been caught by surprise, naked, drunk, and unarmed. By the time the war horn had been blown Thomas had felled nearly a dozen men. However, tyhe Lithuanians then rallied, and began to push the Komtur's knights back. Dismounting his steed and swinging his great sword Thomas broke the counter attack. The pagans began to fall abck as the other Komtur's encircled them.

As the sun rose, it seemed that the grass had been died red. The Teautonic causualties had been negligible, but only a few pagans still lived. Thomas had questions for them, and of course, they planned to repay the kindness these savages had shown.

The interregation began with flaying, and then streching. Finally the men were broken on the wheel. The Komturs all reveled except for Thomas. He called a meeting. He told them of the pagan temple he had been searching for and the dark magic the villagers said existed there. He reminded the men that it was his duty to stop it. While the Komtur's wanted to get back to their wealth and estate, they were willing to part with a few knights each in order to bolster Thomas's force. The only condition was a share in the loot from the Pagan temple.

Agreeing to this Thomas wlaked over to the last prisoner to survive, the man was writhing in agony, the flaying made is body feel like fire, and his eyes welled with hatred. Thomas smiled, “Tell me where this temple is, and I will end your suffering on this earth” The man turned his head. He spoke concise and direct directions. “Go”, he laughed “Go to your death, there is a power in that tmeple, a power that will turn back your hordes! We will be free to wroship the gods of our fathers, and it will be you that are broken on the wheel!”

Contagio

Contagio

With the nausea in her stomach she stared across the room. The judge had ordered six months of Narcotics Anonymous after her last incident. Now Ana was stuck sitting in this stale room in a terribly ugly church.

She thought back to her years failing out of an Art History program..... Churches that had all the look of the poverty of a religion that had once adorned cathedrals, now Christianity was as likely to be found in the store face of an old strip mall than within a beautiful adorned building, and this church was only one more example of that ugly focus on god......

Yea it was nice of the judge to give a suspended imposition of sentence as long as she complied with some terrible rehabilitation program, but what had she really done wrong? She was in a hurry, her damn dealer had held her up making the goddamn girl wait all day, so she had to shoot up on her way to work. So she thought it would be fine to do it at the stop light. It had never been a problem before, but this bag was a little stronger.

She felt the gentle prick of the needle and the next thing she knows she is at the hospital trying to explain to the cops what happened, which she didn't herself know. In fact they explained with such arrogance, they told her she had passed out while driving and rolled into traffic. Then they had taken her to this hospital, and pausing they read her, her rights and put her in handcuffs.

Oh, and the gall she thought, of the judge to suggest that she would attend these meetings even if the world ended.....Like the world was going to end.

The group stared at her in silence. Finally she looked up....., “Yes”, she mouthed..... Then the councilor nodded his head and pointed at the television, the news was on.....

Due to the growth and rapid spread of this new virus the governments of major world powers are imposing quarantines on the infected zones while they are investigating a solution to the infection. We apologize for the inconvenience, and instruct all citizens to stay where they are. To remain inside until the danger has passed. Now the rules and regulations of the local curfews will appear as they differ quarantine zone to zone.

Everyone sat in silence, they stared at the wall and the floors, no one wanted to look each other in the eyes. They feared the burden of having to speak a word of comfort or assurance after such terrible news. The Pastor walked in with a sullen look and put his hand on the councilor. He spoke bravely, but unconvincingly, “All of you are welcome to stay here, we don't have much, but will share all that we do. Turn to god in these difficult hours, and he will give you strength. We will bring what blankets we have to the church there we shall weather this storm.” He looked to heaven and then across the room.

Ana was staring at the ground.... at least it couldn't be nay worse she thought. The pastor came over to her, a few of the girls were standing with him, she hadn't been paying attention, “He put his hand on her and spoke, “Would you mind helping us set up the church for these people?”

Ana sighed but stood. They walked over to the Parish house. The pastors wife sat there silently holding her children. You could tell she was scared. However, her manners came first, she offered the girls some tea, and then sent her daughters to start fetching linen and pillows and whatever they could spare.

The girls finished their tea and followed the pastor over to the church piling blankets and sheets on the pew. The pastor looked at the three girls. “Ana, Hailey, and Brie, I have watched you girls recover and deeply wish you strength, me and my wife will be available at any time if you need to talk, as I'm sure the counselor will be.

The girls headed back to the meeting room. The room was in argument. Voices were raised and people were leaving. The girls stood silently as half of the people stormed off mad and unaware of the gravity of the situation. The remaining six people sat in silence. The counselor watched the news ardently. For the last few weeks there had been health warnings, but nothing so serious. It was suggested that people drink orange juice, not it seemed they may have been smarter to have hoarded weapons.

As the night came to a close the remaining girls slept int the church while the counselor slept in the meeting room. The pastor and his wife brought them a nice dinner, but everyone knew and understood how little prepared they were for this.

As days went by their numbers thinned but the three girls remained. The meals grew scarcer, and everyone started to feel the sting of the quarantine, the news continued to show scenes of dramatic confrontations between people and security forces. Finally there came a knock at the door there were armed guards, they argued with the counselor and the pastor. They seized what few provisions remained and stormed off.

Things grew worse as hunger rolled in. The counselor left and the pastor became ever more distant. His family remained locked in their home and the three girls were left to their own thoughts. One night they pried open the cabinet and found some sacramental wine. The girls split it three ways and as the night grew colder and they grew hungrier they decided to head out and look for some sort of food.

The church was in a wooded area. They headed down the path the girls rambled on incomprehensibly as they shivered and stumbled into the woods. They had been lost for days before the first one fell from exhaustion. The two remaining girls ran to the collapsed one. Brie had collapsed from exhaustion, she was wheezing. And as she lay there shivering Ana kissed her forehead. The girl closed her eyes and the other two stood up.

They kept walking and Ana could feel the tears running down her cheek. It was a terrible waste of hydration. Finally her and the other girl found some berries. They began to eat these half rotten probably poison wild berries as fast as they could. Needless to say, their stomachs were turning early the next morning as the girls continued to wander lost and hungry. Hailey fell to her knees crying.

Ana tried to to get her to stand up, but she begged her to leave her there. So Ana stood up and wandered forward. As night close she noticed an old cabin. She got the door open. At least she had learned somethings when she was a junky.

She opened the cabinets and her heart was delighted, she found food. It is hard to really understand the feeling of elation felt. Sometimes Ramen Noodels and Veg All seem like a king's feast when you have so little. In the cabinet was also a bottle of vodka so there she sat filthy scared, but at least now she was warm and fed. In true serendipity the water even still worked. And so Ana dozed off in the bath tub with the bottle of vodka. When she woke up she climbed into the bed, holding the bottle close to her as one would a lover she slept for what seemed like days.....

Standards

Standards I spend plenty of hours trying to assuage my fears of losing an ongoing fight against myself and the dark logic of a wholly absurd universe that I feel ever estranged from. However I choose to look at the empty bottles around my bed and the spilt wine as simple missteps on my track to find a way to live in accordance with the world. A world often filled with disharmony and pain, but a world full of fools and not monsters. It is a long standing conviction I carry that the people of this world do wrong more out of ignorance or stupidity than out of malice. And when a fool offends you how can you really be angry? I meditate on Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus. I think long on the world and wish to do good. I want not to desperately burn out trying to effect change, but instead to do what good I can to help those I can, but not exhaust myself against the endless torrent of misery. I have spoke to some people who believe this world is already lost. Religious folks who look to heaven for salvation. Or even people I have more in common with, revolutionaries who think we can replace the status quo. Although I would love to see the world change I fear it would not be for the better. Instead I content myself to my studies, to my struggle. Somewhere in my metaphysical struggles to face every day I find enough strength to drag myself out of bed. I do everything I can to help the people I meet. I ask the gods I don't believe in for strength to confront my own weaknesses and failings. Strength to push the empty bottles over to the corner and forget that reprieve for awhile to allow my mind clarity. The clarity to allow those things beyond my control no control over me. To see the world not as something to be challenged and changed, but something to be taught and allowed to mature. I think that there are two types of revolt. An idea common in many ideas and systems of thought. The lesser revolt, a direct challenge to things that are corrupt decadent or wrong, and the greater revolt, a choice to withdraw enough from a world that needs to change, but to live happily with your convictions at peace. “Say to yourself in the early morning: I shall meet today inquisitive, ungrateful, violent, treacherous, envious, uncharitable men. All these things have come upon them through ignorance of real good and ill.” (the Good Emperor)

Ennui Canto 1-The Song of the Silk Cord It is well known that everyone dies. On the other hand, it is debatable whether anyone really is alive. Marie and Lilly probably will die, but the point of this account is to attempt to determine whether or not they ever really lived. With this in mind the march through boredom and despair begins with two young girls on an idyllic summer day. Marie was the older of the sisters. This young woman was tall and thin. She had cool blue eyes that drew you into a mind that was completely and utterly incomprehensible. Her body was well shaped, round breasts perfect waistline. Really, Marie was an ideal beauty. And then there was that laugh of hers, oh the young girl laughed in such a way, that.., well allow the author no more digressions on her laugh, that will, I suppose, come later in this story. Lilly, the younger sister was short; around five foot three, with green envious eyes. The green eyes bore a sign of usurpatiousness that struck a deep contrast with the incomprehensibility of dear Marie’s cool blue. Whilst Marie was outwardly easy going, and charming, Lilly remained ever quiet and reserved. Sometimes bottling things up inside so long that they would explode all at once flooding the unfortunate trigger with all of her problems and painstaking desires. However, for her reservation, she lacked the grace of Marie who walked as though she was gliding through air. The two girls had grown up in a small town with a mildly abusive father. He had been known as the town drunk for quite some time. However, their mother had been considered the most beautiful woman in the town for quite some years. She had a voluptuous body, and curly blonde hair, with turquoise eyes. The woman had been known for her gentle kindness towards everyone she met, and had an equal reputation for hospitality. How their drunken lout of a father had ever copulated with such a angelic creature had always puzzled the town, but Anne, would always tell her daughters and the other members of town, that you don’t have much say when it comes to love. The author would truly agree. Love is such a strange and brazen thing, and often enough, the person we love will always seem more pure, more innocent, and more beautiful to us than they ever would appear to anyone else. The first tragedy to befall the two sisters was the mysterious death of their mother. Anne had grown very sick and remained bedridden for weeks. When she finally died the old drunk received a rather large life insurance payment. Apparently he had invested quite a lot in getting such a large payout. The father abruptly abandoned his daughters and headed west. The people of the town were reported to be gossiping about the circumstances of Anne’s death. Most suspected a constant small dosage of a relatively untraceable poison. Whatever the circumstances the girls felt that they had to leave their small town and make a new life for themselves in the city. Lilly and Marie packed up their few possessions and bade farewell to that quiet town of their idyllic youth. Now it would only serve as a reminder of a dead mother and a drunken father. Lilly took a job making coffee for bourgeoisie types. On Fridays there was even some live music, which caused Lilly to develop a more bohemian outlook on life, it was widely rumored that when she was not sketching in a little notebook, she wrote poetry about the banality of life. Marie took a job at a small bookstore. The proximity to such much knowledge excited Marie to the depths of her soul. She was always reading about revolutionaries, and philosophers. Each line condemning the peaceful petite-bourgeoisie lifestyle her and her sister began to lead. Thus it was so that the two girls carved out a new life for themselves in the big city. Their home was nice enough, although it was only a one room studio apartment. The sisters had made the place all their own. Marie put a large red Ché poster on the wall, and her sister chose a less known author from France. The two ladies’ idols looked over their hardwood floor and round Turkish rug. The rug itself had a rather funny story of origin it had been acquired late one Wednesday night. Marie and Lilly were quite intoxicated walking home from a bar, and accidently walked into the district of town where most of the people were from Islamic countries lived. They wandered around until a Turkish man waved them into his shop. He was a caricature of all the worst western stereotypes, but also a warm and friendly man. Being of a more traditional upbringing he scolded the young ladies for being out so late and with no escort. So, after convincing Marie and Lilly to purchase a rug he sent his son to escort the two girls to their home. The son was about eighteen and laughed with the tow ladies as they stopped in at another bar on the way home. His name was Khalid, but he went by K to make things simple. He turned out to be a good guy, and honest friend to the two girls. They were even invited to his wedding, a rather large and charming fête. His wife spent many nights with the girls teaching them how to cook; Marie in particular was severely domestically challenged. In these peaceful days the two girls developed an appreciation of their new home. It had replaced in so many ways all the things that were missing in their previous residence. In fact this new sense of stability, friendship, and order had made the girls quite happy. Their days were spent peacefully. Although happiness like all human endeavors is difficult to maintain, and the momentous calmando is followed by a boisterous crescendo. It is clear though, that the days spent working at the coffee shop, and book store, were some of the happiest of the two sisters’ lives. In fact it can be argued that they were for a moment completely satisfied. And if happiness is to be measured by a degree of consanguinity to material fulfillment than the two were quite happy, and all of their needs were fulfilled. However one must also take into account the contradictory forces that pull at human beings’ lives. They are a tripartite of three simultaneous stressors. A person is at once their past, present, and future. Lilly and Marie were not any different. It is difficult to understand the future they had in store for themselves, unless one magnifies the amount of happiness that they shared in those blissful days. On a lovely November night the two girls were on a double date with two boys from the Café. They had eaten at a charming Indian restaurant then went for a long walk on the beach. After which the girls consented to the boys’, Ivan, and Rick, request to go out for drinks at the bar the Surety. The Surety was a beautiful bar that had been built in the eighteen twenties. The tables were solid oak, and the structure was far sounder than any of the new places that had popped up over the years. The sisters loved this little bar, and many a fine nights were spent with Khalid and his wife drinking and laughing. Once inside the two girls waved to Khalid and promptly joined with him his wife and their two suitors. The waitress came upon them in a rather lovely outfit full of ruffles, the goal being to make the place feel as authentic as if it really were still the olde days. Khalid was drinking a cabernet sauvignon, and his wife was having coffee. She did not drink, but was always fun for company all the same. Marie ordered herself an imported beer, something from Germany or Austria; it had a strange name like “Rotundschwarzetod bier” it had a picture from the middle ages of a man dying of plague on it. The caveat was that the sick man had a beer in his hand and was winking. It was very dark sheik. Lilly had ordered herself a gin and tonic. She always had a soft spot for gin. It had been that way ever since she had first read about it in school. The British use to use the beverage to cover up the terrible taste of their malaria medicines. Rick elbowed Lilly to indicate to her that an old man was staring at her. At that moment Marie was laughing with Khalid about some poor person who his father had sold eleven carpets to. The gentleman had come to the store to use the restroom and left thirteen hundred dollars poorer. As Lilly’s eyes met with the fat old drunk staring at her, a terrible revelation became apparent. The fat old drunk staring at her was none other than her fat old drunk of a father. Lilly quickly nudged Marie, who so elegantly expressed things by saying “Oh, fuck”. Rick and Ivan abruptly asked the two girls what was wrong. Lilly and Marie decided they had to go and speak with him, so with great ease they finished their drinks and approached the old man. It is often the case that our fathers are allegedly our models for God. We imagine God as we would like to imagine our fathers. This is imprinted at a very young age. However for Lilly and Marie there was little love between them and this old drunk. In fact the two sisters had all but forgotten him in their peaceful new lives. His arrival had broken the peace and tranquility of the day. It was the old man that spoke first, and a derogatory slur he stated, “Oh if isn’t my two whores of daughters”. To this Lilly promptly replied that “You look almost as bad as you smell.” Marie, remaining calm asked him what brought him to the city. He slurred out “Well when I returned to town I found you two sluts had left so I decided to go looking for you”. Marie reluctantly invited their father back to the apartment. The entire walk their was filled with complaints of how he was cheated out of all his money in Vegas, and how even his daughters ignored him like he wasn’t even alive, leaving out the obvious fact that it was he who had abandoned them and not the other way around. He then told the girls how he had decided that they would have to take care of him, being appropriately required by sanguinity and all. It was this terrible intrusion that shook up the lovely girls’ lives. Now instead of returning home to their lovely little place they returned to a fat old drunk cajoling them and telling them they were worthless. On a chilly December night the drunk got into an argument with Lilly. It was over something trivial, but being the nature of drunkards he overreacted and began to choke her. Marie tried to pull him off of her little sister. Marie kept screaming “You’re going to kill her. Stop! Please, stop!” But he wouldn’t stop. So Marie calmly pulled the silk strap off her purse and came up behind the old man. She pulled the silk cord tight around his neck and began to strangle him. Eventually his grip released poor Lilly as his face turned blue. Lilly crashed to the ground panting and crying while the fat old man was tossed lifeless next to her. Marie had finished the job so to speak. Beautiful Marie stood their frozen. The same Marie who had become a vegan because she couldn’t stand to see little animals killed for her nourishment. The same gentle Marie who read books to children at her bookstore. Marie had just become a murderer, or better yet, a murderess. And it was a parricide to boot. The strange thing was that as Lilly finally stopped crying she noticed something in her big sister’s expression. Marie was happy; she was even holding back a smile. And then, apparently for no reason at the two girls burst into laughter. It was a beautiful boisterous laugh that at once filled the entire room. The two girls then poured each other a glass of wine as they mulled over what would be their next move. Eventually Marie calmly called the police who after listening to the details of her tragic story released her and assigned a detective to investigate further. A month later the two girls were completely acquitted of the parricide. And decided to leave town for a little bit in order to catch up on some of the calmness of nature.

From the stand point of empty bottles wasted days and shattered dreams,

Its a vantage I'm just too comfortable with. I'm too engrossed in apathy to really stop the constant progress of self destruction I unleash on myself daily. I fight against it some days, but never with all my heart. And although I would love to say it's because my heart is with you, it's not. The truth is I want to be an honest man. I want to live authentically, and all my philosophies tell me I can't. Live that is. If to live or at least to live a life of some merit we must act on our beliefs, or at least maintain that they are true. I don't believe in much, its mostly all nihilism I guess. How does a nihilist get better How do you conquer depression, addiction, and loneliness without just a bit of faith? Its not something easy and more times than not I'm retreating into a bottle. So how do you believe in hope when hope is antithetical to the few scraps of philosophy you have left? How do you stay clean when facing the day effaces all you strength? Dare I laugh? Dare I pretend for a few moments, even a few months that things are ever ok? Or that they will ever be ok again? Instead I just wait on short term cures trying to hold back a torrent of self consuming darkness that swims in my blood. How do I talk to someone about how I feel when I feel we don't speak the same language. Because the words we exchange are never what I mean, it's the same fashion as going on living when you see no point. So I go on speaking when no one can understand the words. And I think the joke is at the bottom of a few more bottles and a couple more bags, so at least I can laugh when my heart finally stops.